


Lights From The West

by StarsOverTheEast



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, gandalf and his fireworks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsOverTheEast/pseuds/StarsOverTheEast
Summary: The little hobbit nodded and with an expression of utmost concentration pulled the string from the oddly shaped little sphere.Immediately a dazzling light filled her hand, exploding into layers of different colored hues of green that rolled over one another like ocean waves. Flowers burst into existence and lingered in the air before her with their faces pointed towards the sky.-Gandalf takes a break from his usual display of fireworks to delight a few hobbit children with some rather special ones that  are modeled after some of his friends in the West.





	Lights From The West

The sound of the hobbit laughter and cheerful talk seemed to fill the air and shake the tops of the trees themselves as Gandalf hobbled back to his cart with an expired firework in one hand and his ever present staff in the other. 

“Marvelous Gandalf! Simply marvelous!” Gerontius cried as he hopped along at the wizard’s side. 

Gandalf chuckled, laying the empty shell to the side before reaching into the slowly shrinking pile of the unused ones. The hobbits had responded well to the golden trees and silver drops of rain, perhaps now would be the time to dazzle them with a bouquet of flowers?

“The children love them best of all,” The Old Took continued, taking a sip from his mug and sending the rest of the liquid flying with an excited sweep of his arm. “And they are delighted with the ones you have bought for them!”

Pushing aside a rather large, cylinder firework Gandalf reached his hand towards a box of dragon spinners. In the same second his fingers brushed against a much smaller box, sweeping it backwards and onto the bottom of the wagon. There it lay open, its colorful contents spilling out and seeming to sparkle in the light of the stars. At once Gandalf reached to gather then, pausing only when realization crossed him.

He had not meant to bring them. Not these who had been designed with elf children in mind who would understand their special meaning and take delight in their show. They had been forgotten as of late however with the decline of the elves. Children had become all but scare in fair Imladris and Lothlórien and even in Mirkwood, where elves were young according to their kin, they were a rarity. 

A thought stuck Gandalf and he moved once more, sweeping the small treasures back into their box and cradling it to his chest. 

“Gerontius,” he said, turning to see the old hobbit peering into his mug with a perplexed expression. “Gather some of the younger hobbits and bring them here to me. I have an extra surprise I do believe they will rather enjoy!”

“Oh! Of course!” 

The Old Took vanished and clearing off a spot on the wagon Gandalf took a seat with the box resting in his lap. In just a minute or so a small head poked from around the nearby tree closely followed by the rest of the little hobbit and two more. They gathered at Gandalf’s side, gazing up at him with curious eyes. 

“Well,” said Gandalf as he shook the box and titled it towards them, “don’t be shy! You’ve readily grabbed every other treasure offered tonight!”

The smallest of the group, a girl with two long, blonde braids, stepped forward and plunged her hand into the box. After a few seconds of grabbing at the contents she withdrew one and held it before Gandalf. 

“What is it?”

“A question whose answer will reveal itself if you give that string a quick pull,” Gandalf said with a smile. 

The little hobbit nodded and with an expression of utmost concentration pulled the string from the oddly shaped little sphere. 

Immediately a dazzling light filled her hand, exploding into layers of different colored hues of green that rolled over one another like ocean waves. Flowers burst into existence and lingered in the air before her with their faces pointed towards the sky. The sound of light laughter hung in the air and the calls of many birds suddenly rose in a joyful chorus. Amiss the green spilling light a sudden form of gold sprang up, twirling and dancing as a fair elf maiden in springtime. The image lingered a moment longer before fading away as many bright sparkles.

The hobbit child gasped and took a step back as the vision faded away. For a moment all three were silent, mouths hanging open in a rather comical display before a squeal burst from their lips and they cheered and jumped about.

“Again!” one cried.

Gandalf laughed, holding the box to them and each of the remaining children quickly plucked their choice of its contents.

“One at a time now,” Gandalf cautioned. “One at a time!”

With only a second’s delay one of the boys pulled at their string and let out a cry of panic as a cloud of black smoke issued forth. The fear in his voice however quickly turned to a cheer of delight as small sparkles of white appeared among the black; hovering there for a short minute before shooting about and arranging themselves to mirror the sky above. The cloud expanded, swelling in size as the lights danced about and the constellations came to life. A soft light fell upon the faces of the onlookers, bathing them in specks as white as snow. All too soon the illusion ended and the stars fell to the ground as flakes that melted away.

“My turn!” 

The final child stepped forward and, licking his lips free of bits of icing, plucked the string loose before letting the ball drop to the ground. 

The sound of hammers beating in a musical pattern was heard as bright and many colored sparks sprang from the ground; each shooting far into the air and then bursting in cleverly wrought shapes and patterns. A wavering fire issued forth, hissing and casting shadows of grand mountains and great works of stone. 

As it faded away four more children appeared quickly followed by a older, female hobbit who bore in her arms two more youths, twins by the looks of them.

“Come to see the show have you?” said Gandalf as the woman sat the children upon the ground.

‘I offered to bring them for their parents,” she said, giving one of the twins a gentle pat on the head. “You are so kind to them Gandalf, always giving presents and filling the night with lights and adventure!”

A light beamed in Gandalf’s eyes as the hobbit, Belladonna her name, slid one of the children towards him. The Old Took’s very own daughter and if Gandalf didn’t know any better he might have suspected that she had jumped at the chance to see these mystery lights instead of merely being picked. 

The small boy in front of him dipped in his hand and withdrew a rather cheery pink colored ball. He held it up to his nose for a second, and Belladonna only managed to place her hand between it and his mouth before a bite could be consumed. 

“No, no, no Neldo! It’s not food dear! See here? You take this string and pull!”

With some help Neldo yanked the string free and squealed as a forest of trees leap up on his outstretched hands. They hung shimmering in the air and in between their thin trunks raced small shadows of bounding creatures. Suddenly the trees rose into the air, swirling together into a spinning lady much the same as the first firework. The one however rose into the air, spinning and dancing as light as a cloud. Higher and higher it rose until it finally exploded in a spray of pink drops. 

The small crowd clapped in delight and Belladonna pushed the next child forward. A slim girl wearing a flowing, dark blue dress. Immediately her hand reached for the sphere matching her clothing and she cradled it in her hand for a moment. 

“Do you keep fairies in here Mr. Gandalf?”

“Hmm? Oh no, quite no.”

The child’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Then how do they make such pretty colors?”

“That’s a secret!” Gandalf said with a wink. “But come, pull the string and see what’s inside!”

With a loud pop the sphere exploded and bounced towards the sky, rolling about and sending a rain of bright blue popping through the air. The drops fell about them, bursting into small shimmering pools that rested at their feet before fading away and a far off sound of crashing waves upon a beach reached their ear. The shower of rain stopped and the firework gave one last pop! giving birth to a rather magnificent sea creature that swam about their heads for a second and then faded in the light breeze. 

Another sphere was plucked from the box almost immediately, one of the twins who had walked to Gandalf on wobbly legs. There he leaned against the old wizard’s knee, curiously examining his new toy. Belladonna made to help the lad only to stagger back as his tiny hand gripped the string and tugged. 

A gust of wind had issued forth and Gandalf quickly moved his hand to catch the child from a fall. For a long second no lights appeared and then a chorus of calls of birds echoed as many sparks of blue and white and purple popped in the air. An afterglow hovered in the night sky above them, a many layered arc of colors that waved about and then burst into the form of a large bird before being swept away in a second wind.

“Oh my,” breathed Belladonna as her stray strands of her hair settled about her face. A rather fitting hobbit reply but Gandalf did not miss the look of delight in her eyes or the way she eagerly gestured for the second twin to take a babble of his own. 

He did so immediately, turning and eagerly presenting it to her. With a gentle laugh the woman settled in the grass and scooped him into her lap. 

“Pull the string,” she said, pressing it back into his hands. “See the pretty colors that Gandalf has made for you!”

“Come on Alken,” cried one of the older boys (who had not yet received his gift). “Open it up!”

The toddler hesitated, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden attention and Belladonna gently guided his hand to the string giving it a gentle tug before tossing it into the air.

Much to the children’s surprise no large explosions happened, only gentle pops of gray like the evening sky. For many long seconds they continued, trailing down long spirals of dust and seeming to expel a cloud of mist. A sweet smell of flowers hung in the air and a few of the children rubbed their eyes. Gandalf grinned; perhaps he should have saved that particular one for last?

The next few minutes passed quickly then as the crowd of children grew larger and small hands reached eagerly for the now highly desired box in Gandalf’s lap.

The next firework was much the same. Light sparkles of grey that fell from the sky as a spring rain and splashed onto the ground as fountain sprays. The children had almost began to lose interest when flashes of dark red and blue flashed among the gray, swallowing them up in bright drops that hovered before their eyes in beautiful swirls of colors. 

Another string was pulled and a great horn blew with the sound of many racing horses. Bursts of light shot into the sky with a scream, spears racing to pierce the stars before swooping back down and exploding into many small creatures that wavered in the air.

One of many colors now, made of shimmering strings of light that twisted together and bought into view scene of racing figures and sparkling scenery. They flickered long in the air and then seemed to melt away into bright colored drops.

A tree, larger than the rest of the lights, towering high in the sky in a shade of darkest green. Which each branch came an explosion of color and the image of a fruit hanging ripe upon the limb. From the trunk issued forth many creatures of thin legs and curious colors. Much to the hobbit children’s delight the fruit did not fade as the other lights but bounced onto the grass as colorful balls of wrapped candy.

Darker colors now, spilling one after another in a circle of waves with lingering wisps of bright white issuing from the middle. They blew about in an unfelt breeze and as the children reached for them seemed to twist into familiar human shapes and raise their hands high in the air. 

A sound of clashing swords and the shouts of brave men as loud pops of yellow exploded in the night sky. Shapes like unto stars and shields and swords and mugs raised in celebration. They climbed ever higher in a tower of great height before finishing in a series of rapid pops and shooting sparks.

At last each children stood back, hands filled with candy and faces glowing with long faded lights and cheer. Belladonna smiled at Gandalf as they raced away towards their parents; eager to share their good fortune and the tales of many colors and also to fill their stomachs with the supper whose arrival had been announced by a long sounded horn. 

“We seemed to have missed one,” Gandalf said, raising from his spot and nodding towards the tree behind her. “And as luck may have it, I have one left.”

Belladonna turned, kneeling slowly and reaching out a hand towards the small figure that peeped around. 

“Come here dear,” she said with a smile. “You’ve been watching for such a long time Bilbo. Don’t you want one of your own?”

Bilbo nodded, trotting quickly towards his mother’s open arms and laughing softly as she scooped him up and spun him about. 

“I’ve heard about you,” Gandalf said, peering down at Bilbo from under his long, white eyebrows. “Your mother is quite remarkable. I wonder if the same proves true for you?”

Bilbo seemed to consider the wizard for a moment.

“I like your fireworks,” he said finally, giving a slight nod of his head. 

“Indeed,” chuckled Gandalf, holding the box and the last of its contents into his reach. “I suppose you will like this little one too!”

Holding the firework as carefully as glass Bilbo glanced down upon it, eyes wide as he seemed to consider the possibilities of what might be hidden inside. Suddenly he gave it a pull and a whole garden exploded before them.  
A large moon burst high above their head, hazy beside the one already in the sky. About it flowers popped into bloom, spreading long silver petals and unfolding in a puff of light purple. Small moths burst from their centers, white and sparkling in the hanging moon’s light and they danced about the air, one coming to rest on Bilbo’s cheek. 

For many long minutes it lingered before them and far off Gandalf could hear the sound of light, clear laughter. A faded memory of a garden in the starlight and well trod paths entered his mind’s eye. A being of soft light who moved over the land as if floating; one with moths upon his fingers like rings and butterflies ever fluttering about him. 

At last the lights faded and Bilbo rested his head against his mother’s chest in contentment. 

“Thank you,” Belladonna whispered, giving Gandalf a small bow. 

“Oh? The show is not yet over! I still have plenty of surprises in store for all the hobbits!”

At this news Bilbo perked up, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Really?”

“Oh yes! But for now you had better go eat or you’ll miss those seed cakes you like so good!”

Giving Gandalf one last bow and wave the two vanished back into the crowd leaving Gandalf quite alone. The empty box rested at his feet, and about the grass seemed to lay a rainbow of sparks. 

“Quite the show,” the old wizard whispered to himself, raising his hand as a soft touch crept about his wrist. 

A white moth rested there, this one quite real and seeming to regard him with an intelligence far greater than any of its kind. Gandalf smiled at the creature, nodding his head and sending it off with a word spoken like the whispering wind. 

Turning back to his wagon he grabbed two large boxes of bright blue and with a last smile towards the West disappeared back into the party.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to headcanon Gandalf as a maia of Irmo.
> 
> I’m sure you can probably guess, but the order of the fireworks goes as: Vána, Varda, Aulë, Nessa, Ulmo, Manwë, Estë, Nienna, Oromë, Vairë, Yavanna, Námo, Tulkas, and Irmo. 
> 
> Melkor is outcast and so gets no fireworks although I feel one for him would be (the most) quite extravagant.


End file.
